


The Memories that Mattered

by QuasarScorpion



Series: Of Love and Loss [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji Needs a Hug, Akaashi Keiji-centric, Anxiety, Arguing, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Goodbyes, Love Letters, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Men Crying, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Miya Osamu is the best of us, Moving On, Past Character Death, Sad Miya Atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29226735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuasarScorpion/pseuds/QuasarScorpion
Summary: Cool metal presses hard into his skin. It’s way beyond indentations now, and every press grounds him. Without that sting, Keiji could almost let himself believe that Osamu was just beyond this door. That they’d actually been able to make this place their home.The door loomed over him. Until now, it had never seemed daunting. He knew their apartment was fucking empty, but he couldn’t let go. They’d lost their chance to move in because Osamu up and fucking died.He was bitter and broken.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, Bokuto Koutarou & Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Of Love and Loss [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035825
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	The Memories that Mattered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niawho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niawho/gifts).



> This is part two in the "Of Love and Loss" Series. There will be a part three that is all about healing.
> 
> My friend asked me a couple months ago to truly break her heart and here I am ready to provide. Writing from Keiji's perspective was an experience because traversing introspection during moments of emotional intensity is not my jam. However, Keiji is a thinker. I truly believe he'd work through this mentally and would push people away until he couldnt handle it anymore. He'd be someone who'd convince themselves they were more stable and ready to move on even if they were still falling apart. Simply to seem strong.
> 
> I adore him. I also adore this story with my whole heart. Please have fun and take these tissues *presents you with tissue box*

Cool metal presses hard into his skin. It’s way beyond indentations now, and every press grounds him. Without that sting, Keiji could almost let himself believe that Osamu was just beyond this door. That they’d actually been able to make this place their home.

The door loomed over him. Until now, it had never seemed daunting. He knew their apartment was fucking empty, but he couldn’t let go. They’d lost their chance to move in because Osamu up and fucking died.

He was bitter and broken.

His hand was bleeding. A metallic taste filled his mouth. The last few days of gnawing his cheek had finally worn the skin out.

He was afraid. _Why was he fucking afraid?_ He was constantly on the verge of tears and constantly unable to make them fall. Nobody even knows he’s here. Apparently, Keiji’s brain had to supply him with that information. Now that it’s been supplied, he can’t help but think this may’ve been a terrible idea. In no world could he have shared this moment with anyone. They didn’t understand.

His fucking partner had died, and he hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. He breathes out— hard. _It’s time._

If someone asked him how much the key weighed, he would have answered a few thousand pounds. The bloodied key’s weight — tangled with the emotional burdens he was struggling to confront— made unlocking the door nearly impossible. With the deadbolt taken care of, all Keiji had to do was push the handle down.

He reached out, only to hesitate before clasping the steel handle. _Breathe in… 1… 2… 3. Breathe out… 1… 2… 3. He isn’t behind this door, Keiji. Remember, he isn’t there. He’ll never be there._

The longer he held onto the handle, the more he fixated on the speck of blood that had smeared across the deadbolt and on the pain in his hand. He was still involuntarily clutching the key. He pressed down on the handle enough that the door’s weight let it fall open on its own.

It was silent. Eerily so, considering this apartment was supposed to bring them immense happiness. He hated it.

Slightly disassociating, Keiji let his mind wander. Ever since he was a kid, he’d been fascinated by explorers. They were never afraid to go out into the world, to jump head first into the unknown. As a child, he thought he would one day become an adventurer. Now that he was faced with the greatest unknown, Keiji didn’t know what to do.

The suction sound of the door popping open and the scratch of it against the tile crisscrossed the wires of his brain. In a way, this apartment felt like a tomb. It was a catacomb of their relationship. Three apartments and a restaurant holding all the remnants of their lives together. Each one more painful. Somehow, this empty apartment was the worst for him.

One foot over the threshold transported him to a different world. Once inside, the door clicked closed behind him, sealing him away from the world. Keiji was surrounded by darkness, drowning in the shadows and willing to sacrifice himself to emptiness.

He collapsed to the floor.

The bloodied key released from his hand, clattering against the tile. Metallic clangs echoed throughout the space, reminding him once again that he was alone. Folding in on himself, forehead to the cool tile, he began to shiver and screamed out from within his mind for reprieve.

* * *

_In search of the warmth that was once there, his hand slid under the few pillows still remaining on the bed. His hand ran along the satin sheets, coming up short. Keiji was met with cool morning air which was tainted by the smell of sweat and something else. Something he loves._

_Before long nights and again on early mornings, Osamu would lightly spritz their pillows with orange blossom linen spray. A soft smile graced his lips when his face was finally flat against his boyfriend’s pillow. The smell settled deep in his heart, filling his head with a high that was solely reserved for lazy mornings with his lover._

_A euphoria seeps throughout his body, leaving behind a radiance that relaxes his muscles and caresses his nerves. Keiji would sleep, but he can’t. Osamu has already left the bed and was out of reach. Gods, he loved looking at Osamu first thing in the morning when he was bathed in pinks and oranges. Even though that might’ve been his wish for this morning, it’s no longer the case because his body is already screaming for coffee._

_A few quiet grumbles and muscular protests later, Keiji stood and threw on a baggy cream sweater from the chair in the corner. Fuck trousers; he would deal with those later. Quietly, he padded across the hardwood floors, fingers dancing along the vines of their extensive plant collection. Keiji lazily made his way to the kitchen. Through the archway, he spotted Osamu cooking away in one of those loose-fitting black jock tanks — the ones with cut out sides — and joggers that rode low on his hips. He hated those tanks, especially on his hot ass boyfriend._

_He drank in the domestic sight before him. In a few long strides, Keiji slipped his arms in through the sides of his boyfriend’s tank, holding him tight around the waist. “Why even bother with this shirt?” Keiji teased. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.” A smirk pulled at his features._

_Osamu settled his free hand on Keiji’s forearms, settling back into his embrace. “’Cause I grabbed the newspaper for ya,” he patted Keiji’s arm then went back to cooking. “Plus, Isao is comin’ by today ‘n thought I should throw somethin’ on.”_

_“Is she coming?” It’s not that Keiji hated Osamu’s ex, but she was homophobic. In the end, she had no choice because he’d been with Osamu for a few years. There was no changing that, but shit she was such a bitch to Keiji every time she came by._

_He supposed it might be because the first time Osamu slept with her, he realized he hated it. Without wanting to hurt her feelings, he stuck with her for another month and tried to make it work. The day she said, “I love you,” he panicked and broke up with her. Nearly two years later, he entered this relationship with Keiji, and he figured she had always thought the child would bring them back together. It didn’t. Still, Keiji didn’t particularly like her._

_“Nah, my Ma is bringin’ ‘im by,” Osamu leaned back to kiss cheek. “Now go settle in, I’ll bring coffee once I pack this up.”_

_He placed a firm kiss to Osamu’s shoulder, releasing his waist. The newspaper was discarded neatly on the counter nearby; he made sure to snag it before settling on the sofa._

* * *

That morning had been beautiful, Keiji wished he could’ve stayed behind. Then maybe… Just maybe… they’d be sitting in this apartment together. Forcing himself to stand, he moved towards the living room. Everything around him felt stale and stagnant. Even the dust present in the beams of sunlight sneaking into the room seemed suspended in an eternal reverie. Taking a moment, he stood directly in the sun, letting the light wash over his face and warm his skin.

It’s been four hours since they’d buried Osamu, yet Keiji felt like he’d aged beyond this lifetime. The love he has for Osamu is permanent. It ran so deep that he could still feel the faint brush of his lover’s hand on the back of his neck. The push and pull of lips claiming the other’s as their own. The fall of his arms around Osamu’s shoulders as a hand settled on his back. Keiji could feel the warmth through the back of his suit jacket. It was almost like Osamu was there with him. He could imagine it. It would be so easy to stay here. It would be easy to wither away in the emptiness of these walls.

Keiji considered it.

Dragging his ass from the sunlight, he began his look around the place. In the guest bedroom, it seemed Isao had dumped all of his toys on the floor. The sight brought a smile to Keiji’s face. Osamu’s child was filled with sunshine and laughter, always cheering on his uncle and their friends during volleyball games. Isao might actually be MSBY’s number one fan. A Black Jackal uniform was sitting on top of a small pile of clothes under the window. He wondered how the little rascal had enjoyed their new home. His fond look turned sour the moment he pictured Osamu here with his son. A young boy that Keiji had planned to adopt when Osamu’s fully custody claim was finalized. They’d talked about what their lives would look like when Isao joined Osamu’s life as a permanent fixture.

* * *

_Keiji blurted out, “Do you think one day he’d call me papa?”_

_The embarrassment had immediately painted all of his upper body with a dark red blush and his eyes went wide. Keiji had nearly given himself whiplash with how fast he looked away. However, Osamu never let him escape these moments. Emotional displays weren’t really his thing, but that confession slipped from his lips with such ease. He had barely realized he’d said it. Yet, he meant every word. Keiji really did want Isao to one day see him as a father figure._

_Lost in thoughts about fatherhood and panic over the random confession, he hadn’t notice Osamu moving closer to him. A calloused hand cupped his cheek, bringing his face forward. “Ya don’t know it, but he already does,” Osamu whispered._

_“What?”_

_“Yea, he started callin’ ya Pops or Papa in private a few months ago,” Osamu smiled wide. “He thought it might scare ya. I told him it wouldn’t, but he’s afraid yer gonna leave if he does.”_

_“Why?” Keiji searched Osamu’s eyes for clarification._

_“‘Cause his mum said ya couldn’t love ‘em the same as I do. Isao is plannin’ to ask ya about it so don’t tell him I told ya, okay?”_

_“I won’t,” Keiji muttered then closed the distance between them. With his arms around Osamu’s neck, he pulled his lover on top of him, pouring every ounce of love he had into the kiss. He didn’t say it often, but he really did love this man with his whole heart. They spent the rest of that afternoon tangled together. That night, they started a search for a place of their own with space for Isao and room for them to grow their life together._

* * *

Three months ago, everything had been different. He’d been happy. Shaking himself from that day, Keiji closed the door to Isao’s room and moved deeper into the apartment.

The master bedroom door was wide open when he turned the corner to enter their room. He hesitated. Taking a few steady breaths had calmed him and given him a sense of bravery that hadn’t been there before. Without additional hesitation, he stepped inside. Upon entering, he found a site that fucking demolished him. One he hadn’t prepared for. One he couldn’t have ever expected. A lump lodged ferociously in his throat. It was the razor’s edge of sadness. No matter how hard he swallowed, it wouldn’t dissipate.

* * *

_“Here,” Osamu held the steaming cup of coffee directly in front of his face. Using both hands to grip the hot cup, Keiji inhaled the aroma of their newest coffee acquisition._

_Scooting forward, Keiji made space for Osamu. “Have you tasted it?”_

_“Nah, I was waitin’ for ya,” Osamu chuckled, settling behind him with his own mug in hand. “Yer the one who chose it.”_

_He got comfortable against Osamu’s chest. Once that first taste coated his tongue, Keiji could firmly admit that he was incorrect. “This is shit.”_

_“Shit, huh?”_

_“Yeah, absolutely tragic. Maybe two out of ten stars,” Keiji ran his tongue harshly against the roof of his mouth to get rid of the taste. Extending his arm, Keiji quickly rid himself of the mug setting it on the coffee table. He’d have to go make some tea later._

_“Drink some of this,” Osamu said, lowering a tea cup in front of Keiji’s face. “It’s passionfruit black tea.”_

_His boyfriend brought the cup to his lips where he was quick to sip it. There was immediate relief from the gritty coffee that had overtaken his mouth. “Thank you.”_

_“Anytime. Anythin’ interestin’ in the paper?” Osamu jerked his head towards the open newspaper covering Keiji’s thighs._

_Adjusting his position slightly, he made it easier for his boyfriend to see the page. “Not really. Somehow your brother finagled his way onto the front page of the sports section.”_

_“Figures,” Osamu chuckled. “’Tsumu loves to have everyone’s eyes on ‘im. I’m sure when I go see ‘im tomorrow, he’ll tell me ‘bout it.”_

_“I’ll spare you the torture twice,” Keiji said with a soft laugh._

_They had turned on the television after that to catch up on the game they’d missed the night before. Both soaking up all the time they could before Keiji had to get ready to leave for his work trip. In his opinion, attending cons and writer retreats happened to be the worst things about his career path. However, Keiji would hold onto the work forever because of its flexible hours and ever-changing scene._

_When it finally came time for Keiji to depart, he found himself wanting to linger longer. There was always comfort in Osamu’s arms never feeling as though he’s had enough. They stood close, his arms loosely falling around Osamu’s shoulders. He wouldn’t let go until the last possible moment._

_“Tell Isao, I’m sorry that I missed him.” Keiji said, leaning in to kiss Osamu. “Give him a hug for me and tell him that I look forward to seeing him on Saturday.”_

_“I will,” Osamu smiled briefly against his lips. Keiji melted further into Osamu’s hold, one of his hands trailing down until his hand rested on his boyfriend’s chest. “He’ll understand. We’ll miss ya. I’ll miss ya.”_

_“It’ll only be a few days,” Keiji teased, rolling his eyes._

_“I know. But Isao and I ‘ave somethin’ planned for when ya get back.” Osamu tightened his hold, eyes looking at him with intent. Osamu seemed on the verge of adding something, opting instead to abandon it. “I love you, Keiji.”_

_“I love you too, ‘Samu.” Keiji smiled, briefly. In the minutes before he left, Keiji kissed Osamu breathless. “I can’t wait either because when I return, we’ll finally have a place all our own.”_

_“No more nosey roommates,” Osamu chuckled._

_“You can say that again. No more Koutarou,” Keiji said quite plainly. “I look forward to making a home with you ‘Samu.”_

_The car sent to retrieve him pinged his phone._

_“That’s yer cue, Keiji.” Osamu kissed him one more time. “See ya at our home in a few days.”_

_“Yeah, I’ll see you there.” He winked, slipping from Osamu’s hands to grab his duffle bag. “Tell that dickhead brother of yours hello.”_

_Osamu laughed this time. “Have fun out there. Kick some ass, but make sure ya come back in one piece.”_

_“Always do, ‘Samu. I’ve got this.” Keiji smirked, quickly disappearing out the door._

* * *

The sight before him in the master bedroom took the last of his stability. It was impossible for him to remain calm. He was overcome with anguish. Sprinting through the room to the master bathroom, Keiji barely made it to the toilet before he threw up. _What a waste of time,_ he thought. Keiji hadn’t eaten properly in a few days so it’d been predominantly bile. Tormenting him with an uncomfortable acidic burn throughout his mouth and throat.

On unsteady legs, with tears threatening to fall from his eyes, he tore open a tube of toothpaste from the cardboard box on the counter. Keiji squeezed an unnecessary amount into his mouth. After adding water, he vigorously swished. With every passing second, he hoped the mint would wash away the pain. He couldn’t take it. Keiji rinsed his mouth out before returning to _their_ room.

Stacked throughout the space was a series of cardboard boxes full of their sports memorabilia and gear. On top of the box nearest to him lay their old high school uniforms, freshly pressed with a small letter on top of them. The floor had a large picnic blanket and a few cups set out with plates and a few small medallions. In the center, leaning against the empty vase, was a small drawing. It was clear they had taken time to set this up, and it broke Keiji’s heart knowing they could never enjoy it. That they’d never enjoy it as a family.

Pulling the jerseys against his chest, Keiji settled on the floor and reached out for the crayon drawing first. There was a small thud against the hardwood behind him, drawing his attention. He noticed it then. Something he’d wanted but never thought he could have… could he? This small picnic had potentially been the set up for something bigger. Upside down and popped open was a black velvet box. Brown eyes fell closed as his shaky hand reached out for it. With every bone in his body, he begged the universe for this not to be what he thought it was. He begged. If it was… it would make everything just that much harder.

Careful fingers retrieved the box, turning it over in his palm. After feeling its contents, it was clear the box contained a ring. He kept it at an arm’s length. Its existence burned. The realization of what this was eviscerated his body. For a fleeting moment, Keiji felt love and warmth and happiness. Reality made him unable to hold onto that feeling. Swallowing hard with his eyes still closed, Keiji took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Slowly opening his eyes, Keiji pursed his lips when he laid eyes on it. It was a double banded ring, one in black and one in dark blue connected on either side by a small bar.

 _Osamu was perfect._ He was perfect for Keiji _._

 _How was he expected to find that kind of love again in this lifetime?_ Osamu had been _it_ for him.

This ring had been something he’d randomly pointed out while in the shopping district one afternoon. Keiji had been thinking about getting it for months, but it had been too expensive due to the platinum and obsidian within it. He’d never even mentioned it again. Yet, somehow Osamu found it and decided he’d been worth the money. Osamu had found something in Keiji that apparently made him worth a lifetime of memories. This was the hardest for him to fathom.

Keiji slumped backwards, dropping the jerseys into his lap and retrieving the small drawing. His heart shattered. It was mostly scribbled lines, a typical occurrence for a four-year-old. However, at the top was a question. The question Isao hadn’t asked. In wobbly thick orange letters, the sentence _“Can I call you papa?”_ was written. Underneath it was a few stick people. Each one represented a member of their family. Keiji’s stick figure wore oversized glasses and held a book in one hand while his other was holding Osamu’s hand. Osamu had been drawn with Isao on his shoulders, both seemed to be laughing. The stick figure family looked happy. Keiji wished they were. There was even a small dog that they’d all joked about getting and naming Jackal; Jack for short. Keiji’s vision became cloudy again as he set the drawing to the side and lifted the papers, realizing these were notes. Notes addressed to him.

He didn’t want to read them, but he needed to know the words that graced the pages. Every breath was painfully slow now. His heart raced in his chest as his world threatened to upend again. Pain shot through his face as he bit down on the same spot inside his mouth and worried it between his teeth. Keiji wasn’t a crier, but if anything would break him, it’d be this.

_I know you’re out of town and honestly, why am I even writing this part down? I think it’s nerves. I have to get it out. Isao is nearby talking about how our new dog will have so much space. I don’t know if we can deny him it any longer. We’ll have to talk about it when you get back from your trip._

_Now for why we’re here… while I also have a moment to myself._

_There’ve been so many moments throughout our years together that have brought me unquantifiable happiness. After Isao’s mother gave birth, you were there for me as a friend doing more than I would’ve expected from a casual acquaintance. There’ve been no words, up until now, to describe how relieved I was to have you sitting in my restaurant every day. Simply typing away and helping me with Isao. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that at 22, I was now a father. Not only that, but I had to come to terms with the fact that I was gay. Having freshly broken his mother’s heart, I didn’t know how to move forward. My personal darkness took over. Depression has always gripped me, and during this time, the stress tore me down deep into its trenches. You helped pull me back out. You alleviated that stress by helping me. I don’t know why you did… I don’t think I’ve ever asked. But thank you._

_Keiji, I was half in love with you when I asked you out on a date. It probably would’ve broken my heart if you’d said no, but you didn’t, and three years later, I’ve never been happier. The day I knew I was in love with you for real and forever was about a year later. I was scared. I didn’t know how to be in love, and I didn’t know how to express it. On the day of my franchise opening reception, Atsumu and I got drunk. We made a few promises that aren’t mine to share, but one I’ll relay to you now. We promised to be true to our wants and true to our happiness. We promised each other we’d stop putting our love lives on hold for work. I promised myself that I’d keep you close and never let go._

_Then, six months passed and you were the one who fessed up first. “I love you, ‘Samu.” If I close my eyes, I can still see you laying there, dressed in a three-piece suit, face down on the mattress, shoes on and arms splayed taking up all the space. The arm over my legs felt warm, but the look on your face was searching. I remember the fear I felt in that moment. You’d been complaining, and then all of a sudden you were quiet. With a deep breath, you said it for the first time in a rush of air. Immediately, skating passed it back to complaints about your boss. That night as I kissed you goodnight, I whispered my confession against your lips. I had never slept so well. I had never felt so comfortable in someone’s embrace._

_You’ve probably never seen me say so many things. Maybe I’ll just give you this letter and call it good because I know I’m going to drop the ball in the moment. A few months ago, Atsumu told me that he’d never known what honest love felt like, and he asked me how I’d known. He’d said the only love he’d ever known was for volleyball and his family, which broke my heart a bit. I understood his dilemma though because until I had my son, I’d never known what unconditional love was. You showed me the beauty of romantic love, Keiji. You were the first person I’ve ever said I love you to, and I hope you’ll be the last._

_You won’t beat me to it this time, Keiji._

_Will you marry—_

The pen had left behind an ink blot, but the message was clear. “I’d have said yes ‘Samu.” His lips trembled, the words slipping passed them without pause. His hands quivered as he removed the ring from its box, and he slid it onto his finger. He’d hold it close for a lifetime. It was all too much. He reached into his pocket, grabbing his phone. The long list of people reaching out to him with their condolences, none of them mattered when the only person he wanted to talk to was Osamu. Keiji was painfully aware that couldn’t happen. Instead, he ignored everyone else’s messages, pinging Bokuto his location with a simple text.

**To Bokuto:**

**> > **[location]

 **> > **hel p

Keiji dropped his phone, pulling himself into the fetal position, clutching the jersey in his arms and holding on for dear life. The letters fell from his lap to floor, and the box discarded to the side. He felt completely exposed. Torn open in every conceivable way.

At some point he disassociated because there had been nothing. He’d felt nonexistent, completely stagnant and trapped in his sorrow. Until it was shattered by a tight embrace. The warmth mixed with steady rocking yanked him abruptly from the suffocating depths of turmoil.

“Keiji, come on,” Bokuto’s voice broke through. He was snapping in Keiji’s face checking for a response.

“Stop it.” He swatted Bokuto’s hand away.

“You scared me.” Bokuto sighed in relief, letting go of him in the process. “You can’t just send messages like that and expect me not to worry.”

“I’m fine,” Keiji said.

“Mmmm sure.” He sat back crossing his legs.

They stayed silent. Moments like this he appreciated Bokuto in every way. They’d been friends for years and part-time roommates since high school. He’d also grown in those years, learning how to not speak and to read silence while Keiji worked through his feelings. Bokuto didn’t pressure him to speak, knowing it would take time for him to fully comprehend or voice his thoughts. The peace was disrupted by a slam of the front door. It’s loud sound vibrating throughout the apartment’s walls.

“Did you bring someone?”

“No,” Bokuto shook his head. Scrambling to their feet, they waited for the intruder to leave, both fumbling to find something sturdy in case they didn’t.

“Get the fuck off of me, Sakusa!” Atsumu shouted.

The two men released the breath they’d been holding.

“You need to stop and breathe, Atsumu.” Sakusa sounded suspiciously like he was begging. The usually poised man sounded near the end of his rope.

“No, I need ta see that bastard,” Atsumu yelled. “Akaashi!”

“Atsumu, stop it.” Bokuto replied, turning around the corner. “If you came to fight, this isn’t the time.”

“Ya don’t ‘ave a say in that, Bokuto.”

Keiji came from around the corner, placing a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder and squeezing it for reassurance. This conversation, confrontation or whatever it turned into, would have happened sooner or later.

“How fuckin’ dare ya?”

“I haven’t done anything to you.” Keiji deadpanned, which only aggravated Atsumu more.

“Ya did nothin’ huh?” Atsumu barked out a bitter laugh. “Then the fuck wer ya’? ‘Samu was put ta rest ‘n where the fuck was ‘is boyfriend?”

“I couldn’t.” He was ashamed of himself for cowering. From hiding away from the family of his beloved.

Obviously, Sakusa hadn’t told him. It was abundantly clear Atsumu didn’t know the complete story, but he’d been there. Stood at the back of the church, Keiji watched on as everyone blubbered into their handkerchiefs. Atsumu had, in all actuality, run directly passed where he’d been leaning. Without Keiji notifying Sakusa of Atsumu’s breakdown, he probably would’ve ended up passing out or possibly worse.

He’d followed the procession to the cemetery. He’d watched as Suna, Aran, Kita and a few others carried his lover’s casket to his final resting place. Standing there, using a nearby tree for support, he separated himself from the mass of Miya relatives and friends. All of whom Keiji had found impossible to face. The most intimidating was Atsumu himself. At that time, Keiji hadn’t had it in him to speak. Bokuto had driven him home afterwards.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘Tsumu.” Bokuto calmly stepped into the fray.

“Like fuck I don’t,” Atsumu spat. “How could ya? He fuckin’ loves ya ‘n what about Isao, huh? Did ya ever care ‘bout ‘im?”

“That’s not fair.” Keiji said voice completely void of emotion.

“Isn’t though,” Atsumu scoffed, tone laced with venom. Slowly stepping towards Keiji on unsteady legs, Atsumu continued, “Did ya think ‘bout Isao fer a second? Or wer ya plannin’ ta never see ‘im again?”

Sakusa caught his elbow mid-step. There was helplessness written all over Atsumu’s face. No matter how badly Keiji felt for him, it was deeply unfair for him to lash out at him. No one grieves that same, making this argument exceptionally and unnecessarily confrontational. Atsumu was obviously looking for a fight. 

“Stop,” Sakusa spoke, his eyes pleading.

“Get the fuck away,” Atsumu ripped his arm from Sakusa’s hold. Without a thought, shocking himself when he pushed his boyfriend away from him. Bokuto ran from Keiji’s side to help Sakusa up from where he had fallen.

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asked.

“I’ll survive,” Sakusa patted his forearm. There was now a slight dent in the plaster from where his shoulders had collided with the wall behind him.

“I-I- Oh fuck, I—” Atsumu’s hand covered his mouth halting his speech. Regret immediately washing over him. Atsumu’s eyes were wide while his whole body shook.

“’Tsumu, you need to breathe,” Bokuto let go of Sakusa, who was now rolling his shoulder in circles. “Sit do—”

“Imma monster,” Atsumu muttered. The two of them stepped towards him to comfort him, but Atsumu hurried to back away. One step with too much pressure on his bad leg sent him tumbling to the floor. So much had happened in the last ten minutes. Keiji observed Atsumu, unsure of how exactly to help. If he reached out, it was likely he would be refused. On the flip of that, Keiji was the only one here who could potentially level with him.

“Can you both give us a minute?” Keiji asked, watching over Osamu’s brother. He heard Bokuto sharply intake air, ready to protest. “Alone. We’ll be fine.”

Atsumu remained in place on the floor, only now his face was vacant of all expression. The blonde looked ahead without variance or change. Before exiting, Sakusa crouched down, placing his hands on either side of Atsumu’s face. Gently, he tilted his head until he was able to bring their foreheads together. “I’m okay,” Sakusa soothed, thumbs rubbing back and forth over his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it.”

Atsumu went to open his mouth, but Sakusa simply ran his thumb over his bottom lip, stopping the broken man from speaking.

“No need to apologize,” he whispered, touching his masked lips to Atsumu’s forehead. “I’ll be outside with Bokuto waiting for you. Please try and talk to him. I think it will help you.”

They looked at each other for a few intense moments. Their eyes shifting back and forth in a conversation of true intent shared between lovers, incomprehensible to those around them. Keiji was nearly ready to walk away, it was beginning to feel all too intimate. However, Atsumu nodded, urging Sakusa to take his leave.

The pair awkwardly occupied a tense silence.

“Where were ya?” Atsumu muttered multiple times, hands buried deep in his hair, leaning almost completely forward. He could simply walk away, yet a tug at his heart kept him glued in place. A sign to Keiji that Atsumu needed him right now and leaving would go against everything he’d promised Osamu. Against everything he’d planned to promise to Osamu.

Instead, Keiji took the few steps, closing the space between them. On his knees directly in front of Atsumu, he reached out and grabbed his hands to stop him from pulling out his hair. To help ground Atsumu, and – to an extent – help himself, he held on.

“I do love him,” Keiji surprised himself with his admission. Atsumu finally met his eyes, melancholy the only recognizable emotion. Only time could heal what had broken them. A shared experience neither wished on another person.

“I know,” Atsumu whispered on the verge of tears. “It’s fuckin unfair, Kei.” The tears fell in an instant, Atsumu holding Keiji’s hands tighter. “I wish ya ‘ad been there. We needed ya there. I needed ya there.”

Keiji pulled him into a hug, hiding the tears accumulating in his own eyes. After shushing Atsumu, Keiji spoke. “You didn’t see me, but I was there. I was stood at the back of the church.” Atsumu simply held him closer, clutching the back of his suit jacket. “When you ran from the room, I followed. That’s how Sakusa found out where you were.”

His lover’s twin tensed in his arms, a choked sob escaping. “Thanks,” was broken up into many parts as Atsumu stammered through it.

“Don’t worry about it. I love your brother, and I don’t think I’ll get over it, Atsumu,” Keiji spoke, using this time for his own confession. Within the confines of their shared embrace, Keiji felt anything he confessed to Atsumu would somehow reach Osamu. “’Samu was the best of us. He expanded my comfort zone. Every day teaching me to love and be vulnerable in ways I didn’t know I could. Atsu—”

“Yer fine. I understand,” Atsumu interjected, escaping Keiji’s hold sitting up straight. “Losin’ ‘Samu is like losin’ myself. I shouldn’t ‘ave barged in ‘ere. I’m so fuckin angry.”

“I am too,” Keiji blurted. “I spent all day with him before I left and the next morning, only for him to—” He wasn’t ready to say it. “None of this is fair.”

“Ya know what ‘Samu would say,” Atsumu bitterly smirked.

Keiji huffed a pitiful laugh. “Yeah, ‘life isn’t fair. Wouldn’t it be boring if it was?’ I fucking hated when he’d say that.”

“Me too. ‘spose he was right,” Atsumu shook his head. “I wouldn’t say my life is particularly boring at the moment. Though I wish it was under different circumstances.”

“If only the universe was so kind,” Keiji replied. “How’s Isao?”

“He misses ya. Thinks ya hate ‘im or somethin’ ‘cause ya weren’t there to hold his hand,” Atsumu frowned, moving to stand. “Ya should find time to speak with ‘im. Sakusa’s daughter is friends with Isao. I’m sure ya could tag along if ya don’t wanna talk with his mum.”

“You think Sakusa would mind?” Keiji felt lighter knowing he’d have access to Isao. There was no moving forward without seeing the littlest Miya again. Without seeing his son one last time.

“It was his idea.” Atsumu accepted Keiji’s help to stand. “Make sure ya come by on Monday, alright? Mum would like to see ya.” Having not fully released him yet, Atsumu pulled him into another hug.

“I promise,” Keiji agreed. There they stood, swallowed by their shift in dynamic. They would see each other less frequently. This was where their paths diverged.

Keiji hoped there was a dimension out there where Osamu lived on, where Isao had asked him to be his papa and where he had gotten to say yes. He’d instantly give anything to simply hug Osamu a final time and properly say goodbye. No matter how much they looked alike, everything was different. Keiji felt himself sinking deeper into the embrace, ready to fall apart in Atsumu’s arms.

_If he held onto the remaining Miya twin, would he be able to hold onto Osamu? If he never let go, would his world stay uncomplicated? Would he stay in love?_

Nothing felt right anymore. Keiji’s world was spinning. He had nothing tethering him to this plane of existence other than the fabric between his fingers and the faint smell of… _orange blossom._ “Osamu?” Keiji gasped, collapsing in Atsumu’s arms.

As he faded back into consciousness, eyes blinking open, Keiji swore he saw Osamu smile down at him. Distantly, his name was being called out, and he smiled, reaching out to hold Osamu close. Who he’d seen was not Osamu, only his twin. Any happiness that had blossomed in those seconds turned to ash.

“Oh gods,” Bokuto grabbed onto his shoulder. His head lulled to the side, looking up at his best friend.

“What happened?”

“Ya passed out in my arms.” Atsumu replied, moving away from Keiji and allowing Sakusa help him up.

“When did you last eat?” Bokuto inquired.

“I’m fine,” Keijj pushed Bokuto’s hand off his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I am fucking worried about you,” Bokuto cried out, trying to reach for his arm, but he shied away. Nothing could make him stay in the living room right now. With hurried steps, he walked to the bedroom.

“Everyone stay or leave— I don’t fuckin’ care, just stay the fuck away from me,” Keiji’s demand was indisputable. Deep down he knew that Bokuto would stay, it had always been in his nature. 

Night had been harder than he’d bargained for. The lock had barely been latched before he was brought to his knees. In every corner of their space, he saw what could’ve been. Having shucked his suit, Keiji slipped into Osamu’s old jersey.

Rough linens lay beneath him, the scent of Osamu still trapped within their fibers. Keiji could hear his laughter. It was the most beautiful of sounds. Those sounds were what finally lulled him to sleep. The memories of Osamu’s embrace keeping him safe. These linens holding onto the last of his lover.

With a quiet murmur of _“I love ‘Samu”_ Keiji clutched the ring in his bandaged hand, holding it close to his chest.

Dawn poured in through the windows, Keiji watching on from his spot on the floor. His mind had raced in the darkness. Shadows mocked him, and the moonlight only made the memories seem more real. There had been sleep, or so he thought, because there was a moment of beauty in the haze of tragedy. A second where this reality had been the product of a shitty nightmare. Osamu had pulled him close, kissing the tears from his face and tucking his face into the crook of his neck while whispering sweet nothings until he’d calmed down. They’d traded stories of Keiji’s trip and enjoyed breakfast together. All was lost the second he opened the front door of their old apartment to let Isao in. His dream faded as darkness took a foothold in his mind.

The tears weren’t a dream. The side of his face was wet, and his lips tasted of salt. He’d finally cried for Osamu, for their relationship, and for himself. Unfortunately, nothing had given him the means to pull out of the darkness from within. Every tear shed was another piece of light— another piece of Osamu leaving him.

He wanted to hold on.

Using the back of his hand, Keiji wiped the tears from his face. He slipped the ring back on his hand, placing a kiss to the band. It took a few minutes, but he was able to pull himself from the floor and make his way over to the windows. Looking towards the horizon Keiji watched as the sun bravely made its way into the sky. The clouds created breathtaking hues painting him in a sea of color.

_“Beautiful, ain’t it, Kei?” Osamu’s arms slipped around his shoulders._

_He hummed, head tipping to the side and resting against Osamu’s. Crossing his arms over his stomach, he held onto his lover’s forearms where they’d wrapped around his waist. A pleasantly dry pair of lips pressed a kiss just behind his ear._

_“It is,” Keiji agreed, beginning to sway back and forth._

_“We woulda been so happy here.” Osamu kissed his shoulder, tears starting to well in Keiji’s eyes. He swallowed hard, trying to quell the raging tides of emotion that demanded to overflow._

_“Incredibly happy. Why’d you have to leave me alone? We had plans—” Keiji choked on his words, tears cascading down his face._

_The arms around his waist tightened._

_“Hey,” Osamu whispered. “Plans change, Kei. Never had problems adaptin’ before. This is a new challenge, ‘s’all.”_

_Keiji’s eyes fell closed as he swallowed hard again, praying the words would finally escape the prison his throat had become. “I can’t—”_

_“Ya can.” His lover began their swaying again. “Protect Isao fer me. Help ma brother; he’ll need it.”_

_“How am I supposed to move on without you?”_

_“That’s fer ya to figure out,” Osamu said, stepping around Keiji, blocking out the sunlight. Their eyes met as Osamu brought a hand to Keiji’s cheek. “Don’t cry fer me. I believe in ya even if ya don’t believe in yerself yet.” Keiji sighed when a calloused thumb wiped the fresh track of tears from his cheek. “Be strong, love. I’ll be watchin’ over ya. Yer never gonna lose me completely, as long as I hold a place in here.” His other hand slid from Keiji’s waist, settling over his heart._

_“I love you, Osamu.” Keiji barely managed._

_“I love you too, forever and always Keiji,” Osamu smiled, his form beginning to fade from existence. “Til we me again, ‘ave fun out there. Kick ass, Keiji. I believe in ya.”_

_“I’ve got this.” Keiji lied, watching as Osamu faded completely. “Forever and always, ‘Samu.” He’d wished he’d said it more when Osamu was alive._

Once again, he was alone.

His legs buckled, the weight of the last week overpowering his resilience. _Who was he trying to be strong for?_ He’d lost everything he wanted for himself. _What even were the next steps?_ His head hung heavy, hands planted on the floor in front of his body holding him up, knuckles turning white due to how hard he was clutching onto his sanity. With controlled breathing, Keiji tried to piece himself together. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

A silent sob bubbled out of his throat and shook his body. Tear clouded his vision completely. Keiji slumped forward, a hand clutching his chest, his breathing out of control, and his other hand flying to cover his mouth. Never once in his life had he cried this hard, and it terrified him.

He was scared.

He was lonely.

Distraught.

Lost.

He didn’t know what the fuck to do. He hurtled towards oblivion, his heart unravelling at its seams. Keiji was adrift on treacherous waters without any hope of rescue. Emotional outbursts had never been his thing. All of this, an unfamiliar terrain.

It felt like hours instead of the minutes it had actually been. He tried to reign himself in, but there was no hope. It had been a day since he’d dressed for Osamu’s funeral, and longer still since he’d heard of his death. Keiji didn’t know what he expected of himself, having never been in this situation. It hadn’t been this. He hadn’t prepared for any of this. They were supposed to grow old together. 

His nose ran, sobs wrecked his throat, tears formed a puddle on the floor beneath his face, and the air filled with his own choked rendition of “I’m sorry” and “I miss you.” If only he’d let Bokuto stay. If only he’d accepted the help, he wouldn’t be alone right now. Maybe he deserved this, considering he’d been late to contact Atsumu, after their mother had finally been able to contact him. He’d completely ignored Isao at the funeral. Was this his penance?

In the last week, all he’d done was let Osamu down.

Keiji hadn’t felt like he’d ever deserved him…

Not even once had he earned it.

Yet, everyday Keiji had woken to his caring expression and a kiss placed on his forehead. A cup of coffee was always waiting for him on the counter with the daily paper. Osamu would make him dinners, placing them in the fridge for reheating with a note reminding him to not overwork himself during major deadlines. He adored how Osamu would sing in the shower, no matter how many times Keiji joked about him being off-key. It made him happy… it made them both happy. They’d joke about the similarities between Atsumu and Bokuto, people they’d been around for most of their lives. Keiji loved that Osamu would sit behind him on the sofa, both of them existing together in silence. They’d try new things together.

They had planned to travel. To see the world and to conquer their fears. The two of them wanted to forge a path forwards without looking back. Osamu was always there for him. It was the little things Osamu did that made Keiji love him. Even the small annoyances were endearing, and Keiji never wanted to live without them. Here he was, facing a future where he was forced to do exactly that.

Eventually, his tears dried up, leaving a hollow deep in his chest. Keiji moved through the space, mechanically searching in the nearest box marked clothing. Throwing on an oversized cream sweater over the jersey and a pair of ripped grey jeans, Keiji steeled himself. His heart caged within. He grabbed the essentials, plus Isao’s drawing and the letter Osamu had written. No matter how much he wanted to wither away in that room, he needed to leave. This place wouldn’t become his coffin. There were still things he needed to make right.

Bokuto looked up at him from the floor outside the bedroom door.

“You okay?” Bokuto asked, sorrow in his eyes.

“No.” Keiji admitted, extending his hand to Bokuto. “I won’t be for a long time.”

“No one expects you to.” He stood from the floor. “I’ll be here the entire time, Keiji. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. Sorry about yester—”

“Don’t. We are all hurting in different ways.” Bokuto squeezed his biceps.

“Thanks.” Keiji’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Can we leave?”

“Yeah. Let’s go grab something to eat and get you home.” Bokuto softly smiled, and Keiji nodded once in agreement.

They made their way down the hallway, side by side in silence. Stopping to look over the space, Keiji’s eyes fell closed, his breath slowing to accommodate his feelings. “Kou, I’ll be out in a second. I need another minute.”

“No problem. I’ll go start the car,” Bokuto patted his back.

Keiji stood there for a few moments, waiting to hear the door open and close. Alone once again in the space, Keiji walked over to the patio doors standing in the sun. Extending his hand in front of him, the metal band glistened with the light of morning.

This entire apartment was a shared dream that he couldn’t bear any longer. When his body crossed over the threshold of this apartment, he would never return. Tomorrow he’d hire movers to handle the moving of boxes back to Osamu’s, where he could sort through them. It would be a long time before he was comfortable, let alone okay with the divergent path his life had taken.

Keiji turned on his heel, walking onward to the front door. Every step feeling heavier as the realization of the end sank in. The end of their relationship had happened the moment Osamu’s heart had stopped beating, yet leaving their apartment felt final. He’d never be able to fully leave Osamu behind, but he’d learn to live without him.

He’d learn to live.

“Thank you for loving me.” Keiji croaked, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily and blinking away the tears gathering there. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, ‘Samu. The memories of us— of our relationship – are what matter most to me. You’ll always be with me.”

A small smile pulled at his lips. Over and over, his thumb rotated the ring around his finger until it had worn the tender skin slightly.

“I never thought I could have this,” Keiji whispered. “You are— were my future, Osamu.”

Opening the front door, Keiji looked back over his shoulder. “Forever and always, ‘Samu.” With a final rotation of the ring on his finger, he took that first step out of their apartment, closing the door behind him forever. Resting his palm against the door, Keiji bowed his head and thought, even if he was no longer there, at least he had experienced what it was like to be loved by Miya Osamu.

**Author's Note:**

> One last thing, I love complete circles. They really do it for me in a story about emotional turmoil. Did any one notice the cream sweater? The one in the first memory on the lazy morning... It's the same one he pulls without care or notice from the box in their new apartment throwing it on over the jersey. It made me happy because at first I hadn't realized I'd done it. See you all soon.
> 
> I love reading all of your comments and look forward to them. If you want to come chill with me or even scream about Haikyuu!! come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/QuasarScorpion)


End file.
